


Cryptozoology

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cryptid Hunters, Cryptids, M/M, cryptid AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 09:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9432134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Patrick is a lonely cryptid and Joe, Andy, and Pete are three cryptid hunters who can't seem to get famous.





	

Patrick always found it weird that he had entire websites dedicated to him.

 

It wasn’t like he was a celebrity or especially handsome or anything. He spent most of his time in the woods, sure, and he looked a little odd, but that was no reason why he had websites about him. They all looked the same too, red text on black backgrounds, blurry pictures of him walking with red circles around him. It was somewhere between endearing and creepy.

 

Patrick rarely left the house, too. He left every other Saturday to get groceries and supplies, and the rest of the time he spent holed up in this tiny cabin, watching TV shows and reading about himself. After all, why wouldn’t people want to look at him?

 

Maybe it was the big claws. The purple fur. The fact he was 8 feet tall and had teeth like daggers. You know, normal stuff. He liked himself despite these things. It was helpful to get rid of people. He _could_ look like a human, but staying in that form too long made him itchy. It was like wearing a suit. It was nice for a while, but after a little bit you just want to spend the rest of your life lounging in your underwear.

 

He didn’t need to get rid of anyone, however.

 

His house was in the middle of the woods. It’s not like he had many visitors, besides the odd reporter/cryptid blogger.

 

It was a little bit lonely.

 

Okay, it was very lonely.

 

He _had_ friends, a long time ago. Other cryptids. Yet, friendships never lasted terribly long, and they all drifted apart. Most of them went to their little corners of the woods, or to the bottom of their lakes, and Patrick never saw them again.

 

Patrick sighed. Being depressed always made him hungry. He turned off his computer and got up, wandering to the fridge. Inside was a single, small bag of baby carrots, and an empty carton of butter. He ate the carrots, bag and all, and looked out the window.

 

He had to go grocery shopping. With a few clicks and groans, he was in his human form. Maybe he could try to look online and find some clothes that would last between transformations. If he ever had to shift between cryptid and human quickly, he would be naked in front of anyone and everyone who was nearby.

 

He threw on an old t-shirt and some sweatpants. His ratty converse barely fit anymore, and he mentally calculated how much money he had. Thank god for the internet these days. Patrick could work from home and not have to deal with anyone.

 

New shoes could wait. He was just hungry.

 

He stepped out of his cabin and was met with the chilly autumn air. The trek between the cabin and the city was boring, and today was no exception. He just hummed the entire time, kicking at the occasional rock or glaring at the occasional hooligan teenager. While the isolation had it’s perks, he was always more aware of it when he saw other actual people. Friends and couples and families hanging out and having fun, while Patrick hadn’t really spoken to anyone in about a month.

 

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, realizing he probably looked a little bit off. “I’ll just get my groceries and go home. No need to-”

 

“Excuse me, sir?”

 

Patrick looked up. A dark-haired man was practically vibrating in front of him, holding out a hand. In his other was a sketchpad, and the current page was covered in doodles of… him. Well, his cryptid form. “Hey! I’m Pete Wentz, from the website Cryptid Daily? I wanted to interview you about the Oglesby Manhunter!”

 

Patrick contained the eye roll. All of these bloggers seemed convinced he ate people. For their information, Patrick had never eaten a human before. He ate red meat specifically to stave off the urges, but it wasn’t like they would know that.

 

Still, he took Pete’s hand, shaking it once before shoving it back into his pants pocket. “Patrick, and I don’t know much about it.”

 

“Ah, that’s fine! It’ll just be a few questions.”

 

Patrick sighed. “Fine, just a few. I have to get home.”

 

“Great! So what do you know about the Manhunter?”

 

“Like I said, not much. Uh, it lives in the woods and like, eats people or something.”

 

Pete nodded, scribbling down on his notepad. “Right, right. Do you believe the Manhunter is a harbinger of doom or just a warning? The last few major disasters and crimes in this town have been preceded by a visit by the Manhunter.”

 

Patrick grimaced. He had unfortunate timing.

 

“Uh, neither? I think people are assigning too much meaning to a made up monster.”

 

Pete glanced up, muttering something about made-up as he scribbled down on the notepad. When he was done, he just stared directly into Patrick’s eyes without a word. Patrick shifted, and after an entire minute of Pete not saying anything, Patrick cleared his throat.

“Do you have any other questions, Mr. Wentz?”

 

“Yeah, I do. You’re aware tomorrow is a full moon, yes?”

 

All too well. Full moons, Patrick couldn’t control his shifting all too well. Most of his, uh, _sightings,_ happened on full moons. “Not… really. Why?”

 

Pete leaned forward, and Patrick could smell the coffee and cheap breakfast on his breath. Patrick instinctively leaned back. “Well, my crew and I are going to be camping tomorrow night, in the hopes of seeing the Manhunter. If you see anything, call me, okay?” Pete reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He saluted and walked off, leaving Patrick in the parking lot of the store.

Patrick looked at the business card.

 

**CRYPTID DAILY**

**CRYPTIDDAILY.BLOGSPOT.COM**

**FOUNDERS: PETE WENTZ, ANDY HURLEY, JOE TROHMAN**

**CONTACT US AT 555-XXXX**

 

Something about the obvious lack of budget and effort was adorable, he had to admit. Still, he stuffed it into his pocket. This could be fun.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, hello, loyal readers and viewers! Pete Wentz here, with your favorite co-hunters, Andy Hurley, the brawn, and Joe Trohman, the brain. It’s currently 11:38 pm, and right now we’re on the lookout for the Oglesby Manhunter!”

 

Andy and Joe shared their _look._ The Pete Wentz Is Being Endearing again look, one they both knew well.

 

“What do you think we’re going to find this time?” Andy asked, loading up his tranquilizer gun. Pete was talking into their cheap camcorder, one hand waving enthusiastically as he spoke about the horrors of the Manhunter.

 

Joe shrugged. “I dunno, I’m sure we’ll find something. At least a dead body or a footprint or something.”

 

“Mmh, fair. Hopefully we get done in time so we don’t have to sleep out here. It’s pretty spooky.”

 

The forest wasn’t inviting. There was a sort of constant ambiance of scary noises, like one of those cheesy CDs people put on at Halloween parties. Joe was starting to get anxious, though he couldn’t put his finger on way. Maybe it was the constant owl hooting, or Pete telling horror stories in the background, or maybe it was the fact that Joe Trohman was a baby. All of these seemed like perfectly acceptable answers.

 

“Alright, guys! Let’s begin the hunt!” Pete crowed, stomping off into the forest. Joe and Andy followed close behind.

 

The first hour of the walk was boring, though none of the crew was surprised by that. Besides a few scares (Andy almost shit himself when a rabbit darted in front of them), the forest was Manhunter free.

 

“Maybe we should call it a night?” Joe said, swatting at a mosquito on his arm.

 

“A night? It’s only 12 am! Sunrise is like, 5:30. We have plenty of time left.” As if on cue, as soon as Pete finished speaking, a twig snapped a few yards away. The three men stopped.

 

“Did you hear that?” Andy said, and Joe and Pete nodded.

 

“Probably just an animal. A rabbit or a fox or something,” Joe said though he didn’t believe what he was saying.

 

Another snap. Joe felt like he was glued to the spot.

 

“Andy, get the gun ready!” Pete hissed.

 

Andy aimed toward the sounds. The snaps increased in volume and frequency until they saw something amazing. A shadow, towering over all of them, with a dog like muzzle and long claws that could easily rip them to shreds. Pete let out a shriek. “Fire, Hurley! Fire!”

 

Andy fired, and the dart bounced off of the creatures chest. It let out a horrific howl before pouncing, and Pete’s last thought before he passed out was that he was going to get killed by a legendary cryptid. This was at least in his top three ways to die.


End file.
